


by the light of amaurot

by Troubadourae



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: AU, F/M, Memory Loss, Possible Slow burn, amaurotine wol - Freeform, fem miqo'te wol, spoilers for up to patch 5.25, the convocation is a fun workplace, we don't stan hydaelyn in this house
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:42:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Troubadourae/pseuds/Troubadourae
Summary: Amaurot, Garlemald, the Source, and the First. The more Lyra begins to learn of her home, the less she understands. For better or for worse, she has an ascian or two ready to help her remember.Tags will be updated with each chapter! This follows a fem Miqo'te WoL from Amaurot right through to post-SHB, so it will deviate from canon (some people are better off alive).
Relationships: Elidibus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. the stars still turn

**Author's Note:**

> I'm officially in 14 hell, and 5.3 is too far away, so enjoy!
> 
> Big thanks to CocoaSnapple for theory crafting with me to try and solidify all these ideas.

For malms, there was nothing but the stillness of death.

Nothing moved, the wind blessedly silent against the fletched Gridanian arrow nestled in my shoulder. The magitek armors were still billowing plumes of sparking smoke into the sky, although they had long since stopped the mechanical whine of their system failures. I didn’t want to look for the pilots strewn across the battlefield.I didn’t want to, but I saw them anyway. The still figures of imperial black and gold melted in my vision, blurring with the blues, reds, and yellows of the Eorzean forces. Skies choked with smoke as flames eddied and swirled from a downed airship almost a yalm away, blissfully quiet enough after the fade of the battle that I could try to close my eyes in peace.

I didn’t know how many people we’d lost. I didn’t know how many people I’d saved.

_It wasn’t enough._

_It wasn’t enough._

_It just wasn’t enough._

I didn’t want to think about the body weighing me down. They were Garlean, of that I was certain. Whatever it was must have caught them by surprise, as they had taken me down with them, potion glasses shattering across my back as they broke. I willed my eyes shut, weary of the broken bodies around me.

In the resounding quiet, the faintest soft _beat_ sent my heart racing. A moment later, the beat burst forth again, my right ear twitching towards the tell tale sound of a pulse- _of life_. I didn’t care how it happened. I didn’t care that the barren land between Eorzea and my home had been silent, bereft of life save for my own feeble pulse for hours. _There was someone out there._

Shoulder screaming, I pulled myself up as far as my body would allow, struggling even to stay a fulm off the ground. As soon as my pulse began to rest, I listened again. Whoever it was wasn’t far, if I could hear their heart this clearly. Each stretch to pull myself forward across the battlefield cost me blood, cost me pain, but I honed in on that heartbeat to connect with it as if it were my own.

_I would save one more. One more before I rest._

And then, his voice was the vessel that pierced the silence for a second time. Old and powerful but barely clinging to life. “I would have words with you, Selch. Over this empire of yours.” They were breathy exhalations, the words so soft that a hyur would likely not pick them up. I pushed forward once more. The swift buzz of sound must have been a muttered a response, the linkshell clearly damaged. I could see him now, not more than five fulms away, but near half buried under a twisted magitek wreck. Blond hair stained with blood, eyes shut tight and brow knit together in pain. A blue-edged wound open around his chest, a lancer’s spear stuck deep.

I didn’t hesitate. I reached out a shaky hand, the arrow in my shoulder digging further as I pushed to grab onto the man’s right wrist, fluttering with a dangerously slow pulse. And with everything I had left in me, I _pushed_. Every onze of power I had left I sent his way like a raging wave, feeling his purple-flecked soul begin to flicker with life. When I had the strength to open my eyes, I nearly pulled back in shock.

Red bloomed, glowing and twisting into place over his face. Wings of the herald, of the dove, burning with such an intensity that I could scarce see the blood on my uniform for the black. His lips pulled back into a snarl, something vicious that bristled at the edges of his soul, purple spiking as he tried to pull his arm back.He stopped himself as soon as he realised I was trying to help. I could feel more than see the tension around his brow dissipate, the muscles running down to his fingertips relaxing one by one as my healing magic got to work.

Thunder boomed across the battlefield as a Garlean airship blew half a yalm behind where we lay. I had no strength left for a shield, but nevertheless thin lines of gold began wrapping around us, lacing together and knotting to form a near perfect dome. It settled into place with a burst of sparks as debris rained down on top of us, a soft grunt emitting from the man beside me, concentration furrowing his brow.

As he held the shield, I cast a glance over his chest once more. The wound was closing slowly, but the spear still had to be removed. “I need to- to take that out.” Sputtered and soft, but he seemed to hear it well enough. When his left hand gripped into a tighter fist, gold sparked once more over the shield, filling in the gaps left behind by the raining shrapnel. Each shard of what was left of the Altus seemed to slip off the shield with a soft ping, the rumble of her blown ceruleum tanks beginning to finally cease.Pulling myself up onto my knees, I steadied my fingers around the lance’s wooden staff, sending silent thanks to whoever would listen that only a single point had pierced his skin. I pulled what aether I could from within me, ready to send a targeted burst into the wound as soon as the lance was free.

As I readied myself with a steadying breath, he spoke. “What’s your name?”

“Do you want to know before or after I save your life?”

His lips quirked up at the side, light shining through — life showing its heavenly face. “Indulge me. Before.”

“Lyra.” I readied to pull the spear. “You can tell me your name after.”

Before he had the chance to respond, before the tilt of his lips could change, I pulled the lance up and out of his chest. I threw it behind me without sparing a moment, trying to ignore the primal shouts of pain that flew from his mouth. If time had not been of the essence, I would have given him something to bite down on. Quickly, I placed a hand on either side of the wound, directing the aether twisting in my core upwards and outwards, setting it to work pulling skin and bone back together. I had never prayed to the twelve before. Seeing the blood flow like water from his wound, I almost did. Instead, I shut my eyes as I sent another pulse of aether out through my hands. 

Screams turned into muffled moans, and as I opened my eyes I noticed only the barest remains of a jagged scar across his chest. My own breaths turned to heavy gasps as I was forced to pull on the aether around me to replenish what little I had left. There wasn’t much to spare, the battlefield was as barren and lifeless as it could have possibly been. The arrow in my shoulder seemed to dig deeper, aether pooling out and dissipating with every passing second.

Soft fingers entwined themselves around my wrists, peace flooding over me and pain receding. I started to fade as the golden light of the shield began to pull itself back towards the man, eyes drifting closed and limbs going weak. I could dimly register his arms catching my shoulders as I started to sway, setting me down gently on blackened grass without jostling the arrow still lodged in my chest.

“Ophiuchus,” he whispered, “my name is Ophiuchus.”

Bursting, blinding, terrifying light.

It surrounded me on all sides, blue seeping into the most shadowed parts of my soul and shining its holy light. Gone were the plains upon which I had fought, gone was Ophiuchus. Crystalline fractures spiderwebbed across my eyes, throwing the stars in front of me into reflections upon reflections of themselves, the constellations spinning and glistening like morning dew. As quick as it started, the world stilled.

_Hear._

Where was I?

_Feel._

Was he alright?

_Think._


	2. the first day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i blame 2020 for the delay? i'm blaming 2020 for the delay. (sorry)

Starlight still streamed through the windows when we woke up. 

Amaurot was beautiful in this pre-dawn light, the soft star glow a sight I would never tire of. The stars flickered in and out of sight, the windows of nearby apartments doing likewise as the city began to wake up. Ever since I’d started staying over with Ophiuchus, he’d left the heavy draped curtains open throughout the night. _So you can watch_ , he’d said, but several years down the line he’d spent just as much time looking out over the city as I had. 

It had become my favourite part of the day. I often stirred before he did, revelling in the few minutes I could take to admire the view from his bedroom window. His desk used to block the lower half of the pane, but he’d moved it off to the side a few years before so we could see the glow of the city in full. Being a good twenty floors higher than my old apartment, there was no competition when it came to where I’d rather enjoy the view from. 

Still half asleep, he draped an arm around my waist to pull me closer under the sheets until my back was pressed against his chest. _And there was no competition when it came to company, either._ “Morning, dear.”

I hummed in response, taking his hand in mine and running soft lines over his fingers. His answering harmony came softly, a deep sigh exhaled with a smile that I knew well, even without looking at him. We had another two full bells before we had to head out for the convocation’s morning meeting, but my stomach was already twisting into knots. 

“The stars are brighter this morning,” he muttered, pushing himself up onto an elbow to gaze out at the sky. 

“You’re mocking me.” He didn’t stop me as I gave his arm a light slap. “They look this way every morning.”

“Is that so, Honourable Iovita?” He was smirking again. 

“You’re about three bells too early, Ophi,” I said, “but they’ll shine brighter once I’ve got my convocation seat.”

A laugh started low in his throat as he pushed a few strands of my dark grey hair out of my eyes. I tore my gaze from the cityscape so I could look at him, his white hair taking on the light blue hue of the hour and spilling over his shoulders. Reaching my hand up to his face, I imprinted this vision in my mind for the day, knowing that his red convocation mask would cover his eyes soon enough, his hair lost in the hood of his cloak. 

I pulled him closer, meeting his lips with mine as his hand continued to card through my hair. Nervous thoughts tugged at my attention, and my fingers had stopped tracing lines down his face. 

His sapphire eyes turned inquisitive. “What’s wrong?”

I answered by pulling him in for another kiss. 

After indulging me for an all too short moment, he pulled back and placed a hand on my chin. “Lyra.”

“What if I mess this up?” There were better candidates out there than me who had fought for the title of Iovita; many were more suited, older, more experienced. I was barely a handful of years out of my studies, and I certainly hadn’t been waiting centuries for the title. The thought of the seat had only been in my mind for several decades at most. 

“They wouldn’t have chosen you if you weren’t right for the title,” he said, “and I’ve worked with Iovita for as long as I can remember. His judgment is rarely wrong.”

“But it can be.”

He sighed again, wrapping his arms around my waist and meeting my eyes. “I’ll not have you questioning this on your first day. Give yourself a century. You’ll make mistakes, of course. We all do. Did I ever tell you that I once started a fight between Lahabrea and Mitron?”

I shook my head. 

“They were at each other’s throats over the finer points of creation for bells. I didn’t know how to interfere, and in error I chose to side with Mitron.” His fingers ran idly down my back, the ministrations easing knots of tension as he spoke. “I made it worse. Had to call in the old Elidibus to offer guidance, eventually.”

“The Emissary,” I smirked, “picking sides?” 

“I learnt my lesson. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m rather hungry.” 

The chill of the morning hit me as he pulled the sheets back, and I begrudgingly watched him head for the kitchen, grabbing a white cloak on his way out of the room. 

Music echoed through the apartment, Ophi’s dulcet tones following close behind. He only sung on the best of days, and rarely before setting off for the convocation. Music was something he’d often save for the end of a trying day, or forquietly hummed tunes as he walked along the Anyder river’s shores. Hearing him now eased my lips into a smile, something which I was very sure was his intention.

I could smell the triple cream coffee already, the whir of the grinder coming to life. By the time I’d slipped out of bed and thrown on my own robe, he was almost finished pouring the milk. I took a seat on the plush couch he had turned to face towards the window, and waited for him to come over and sit next to me. 

I tilted my head to look at him once more, letting my hair fall over the back of the couch. “Well? What’s on the agenda today?” 

He set the milk jug down by the sink. I asked this every morning, letting him sort through his thoughts and plan for the day accordingly. I couldn’t lie, it filled me with warmth to think that I would get to be a part of it all that morning, too. “Lahabrea wants to propose a new method for getting creations approved. Emet Selch is against it.”

I muttered a thank you as he handed me my coffee. “Why’s that?”

“That’s just the way the Architect is,” he settled into the seat, “stubborn to a fault. Anyone could see that Lahabrea has the right of it in this matter, but the Bureau of the Architect’s been running itself fairly unassisted for the past few centuries.”

The sun burst across the horizon, and Amaurot began to shine in rosy pink. Ophi’s mug hid a knowing smile as he cast his eyes out to the city and the star rising beyond the horizon. 

It was a spectacular sight. “How long do you think they’ll debate for?”

He pondered for a moment. “Could be the full day if Selch is in a bad mood, half a day otherwise.”

“And Igeyorhm?” The coffee burned my tongue, but it was good enough to risk another sip. I could never get the flavour quite as right as he could, the beans always turned out bitter and milk was hot but never frothed. “Could she calm Lahabrea down?”

“The day she can calm Lahabrea is the day I’ll resign.”

Our gaze wandered back out to the city and the twisting spires piercing the sky, the light seeping around the tips of the tallest buildings. Warmth spread across our skin as the sun continued to rise and set blue-toned cornerstones alight, each part of our home brightening and sending the stars to their rest. 

I could feel the clock ticking down to sunset. There could be no handover of the title of Iovita without considerable astral preparations. The date of the ascension had been recorded long before my name had ever entered the pool for potential successors, and the date for my own resignation had likewise already been set. If I had to be honest, I was more worried for the official handover than I was for the convocation meeting. The Lightbringer had been markedly silent on the ceremonial process that was due to take place. 

“How did the old Elidibus give you her title?”

“With a handshake,” he said, “and some recited words. It was fairly uneventful.” 

I sighed a soft hum as I took another sip of coffee. 

“You don’t have to be worried.”

“You’ve never had the title of Iovita.”

He shrugged, resting an arm over my shoulders and tugging me into his side. “I haven’t led you astray yet, have I?”

“Not yet,” I smirked, “but you have centuries ahead to disappoint me still.”

There were fourteen convocation members seated around the table in the central meeting room, and two of them held the title of Iovita. 

As was customary, the old Iovita would stay with me throughout the first day, and we would end with the official exchange of the title and he would be off on his way to a peaceful retirement. It could never be said that new convocation members were left to their own devices from the start. 

The honourable Emet Selch had not seen fit to see his colleague off. Elidibus, to his credit, glossed over his absence during his introductions. I wasn’t surprised the Architect decided to skip the morning meeting, Ophi had shared as much with regard to his character in his exasperated rants.

I was greeted by polite smiles all around, perhaps the most radiant of which coming from Igeyorhm. Lahabrea beamed with something I couldn’t quite place, but it was clear that he was in a good mood, most likely thanks to the Architect’s empty seat, a forfeit of the debate that would have ensued between the two. 

I listened intently to Elidibus as he began to direct the meeting, although it was clear that not everyone at the table was doing the same. Mitron and Loghrif had whispered words to each other, and Lahabrea seemed preoccupied with glancing between Igeyorhm and myself. The other Iovita, to his credit, didn’t let his attention stray. He answered questions and made comments with a practiced ease and a soft smile, savouring each moment of his last day in office. 

The whispers and glances only grew throughout the morning. As the others became more and more restless, Elidibus saw fit to end the meeting early. Iovita excused the two of us, and before the rest of the convocation could say their proper farewells, he began to lead me out towards the city streets. 

“A pack of vultures, the lot of them.” Iovita cursed, a shade of bitterness clouding his tone. Despite the time nearing noon, Amaurot’s air still held the chill of the morning. 

I followed his lead as he headed west, the silence stretching until I finally dared ask the question on my mind. “They were talking about me, weren’t they?” 

A stiff nod. “You are… close to Elidibus, are you not?”

I always knew it would come down to this. 

“As I thought. Some of them find your appointment the result of favouritism.” 

A left turn, and I could see the Bureau of the Lightbringer up ahead.

“I hold no love for the Emissary,” he muttered, “if I wanted to choose someone else for the office, I would have. I fear it won’t stop the rumours, though.”

His candidness surprised me, his demeanour wholly different from his collected manner in the meeting. I couldn’t help but wonder if I was looking at a vision of me centuries down the line— if the title and office would really change me so much. Or, perhaps, the years away from Amaurot had simply made an old man resentful of his colleagues who could stay close to home.

He raised a hand and gestured to the building in front of us. “Your new home. When you’re here, at least.”

Signature black and gold doors marked the estate as a convocation building, but its otherwise unassuming brick face let it blend right into the rest of the residential district. They pushed open silently as we reached the top of the steps, heading into a warmly lit hall of marble. 

“There are guest rooms on the second floor,” he started, “the Lightbringer tends to have guests rather often if they’re in the city. You’ll find your offices on the third floor, and your personal rooms on the fourth.”

A voice called out from above, carrying through the hallways. “Io? Back already?”

He called back, matching her in volume. “I’ve brought a guest!”

Quick footsteps echoed as the speaker made her way downstairs, muttering to herself as she went. A floor above, she poked her head over the marble rail to look at us, hair the colour of a pale sunrise flooding down her back. “Ah! You must be the new Iovita!”

She came to a stop in front of us, a hand outstretched and an easy smile on her lips. “I’m Fenne, the Chief of the Bureau of the Lightbringer.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I shook her hand.

Iovita cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. Show her around, would you, Fenne?”

The woman nodded, the bright smile still in place. 

“I have some business to conclude with Elidibus and I’ve a mind to get to him before the others.” He cast another glance to me. “I’ll be back around sunset. Do be sure to dress warm.”

In the blink of an eye, Fenne and I were alone in the entranceway. “Right! Let’s get you settled then, shall we?”


End file.
